


what i want

by orphan_account



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Feelings, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-19 19:54:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20215357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: San inhales, long and hard. The song has long stopped, leaving the room almost dead silent save for the distant whirring of the a/c and the pounding of their own pulses in their ears.“Did you lock the door?” he asks. His voice is leveled despite the fact that he’s barely hanging onto his self-restraint by a thread.Yeosang gives him a single nod of his chin, and it’s all he needs.“Good.”—inspired bydesire.





	what i want

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to [this](https://twitter.com/euphoriayeosang/status/1155141117307969536?s=20) [moment](https://twitter.com/woodz_dnwm/status/1160334536561111040?s=20) from their performance of desire at del mundo...truly a remarkable moment in history
> 
> also [these](https://twitter.com/yunadesire/status/1159787535498747904?s=21) pics

Seonghwa’s the last member besides San to gather his bag and head towards the door of the practice room to leave. He pauses for a moment in the doorway, turning around to regard the younger with concern.

“How much longer are you planning on staying behind?” he asks. “It’s been a long day.” 

San offers him a soft, assuring smile, his dimples dipping into the soft mounds of his cheeks.

“Don’t worry about it, hyung. Won’t be long.”

Seonghwa’s gaze softens. “Okay. Be careful.”

“I will.”

The door clicks shut.

San takes a deep, leveling breath. He faces his reflection in the mirror and straightens his back, the sleeves of his t-shirt rolled up to expose his biceps.

He spends a good fifteen or so minutes practicing a handful of choreo, without music, the only sounds in the room being the squeaking of his shoes against the polished wooden floor and his breathing.

He’s in the middle of shaking off a minor leg cramp when the speakers start blaring the opening of  _ Desire, _ nearly startling him.

“Wh—”

The door creaks open. San looks over to see Yeosang stepping inside and gently closing it behind him.

“Oh, hey.”

“Hey. Sorry, did I scare you? I didn’t mean to. My phone’s still connected to the bluetooth.”

“Nah, you’re good. Did you wanna run through this song?”

Yeosang nods and the two ease into it right as Hongjoong’s part begins.    


The movements flow through and between them effortlessly; it could appear lacking with only the two of them dancing the choreography instead of eight people, but it doesn’t. Their energy fills up the entire room.

When Yeosang steps forward to rehearse his part, San watches him through the mirror from his position behind him with a fond smile.

Then it vanishes, quick as it came, as he reaches out and firmly tugs at Yeosang’s shoulder. Yeosang spins around to face him but seems to lose his balance in the process, causing San to reach out and steady him by the waist.

They end up with their faces barely inches apart. San has one hand gripping Yeosang’s elbow and the other splayed across the lower half of his back. His instinct is to pull away, not wanting to make the other member uncomfortable, but Yeosang sucks in an audibly shuddering breath that makes San’s blood freeze in his veins, paralyzing him.

San wrinkles his brow, shoulders tense. He searches Yeosang’s face—so _ close _ —for something. A clue. Yeosang’s eyes are looking down; his expression is unreadable. San feels a hand come up and delicately clutch the front of his shirt.

“San..”

He’s shaking.

Concern rises in San’s chest. He moves to pull his face away, afraid that their close proximity might be overwhelming the other, but Yeosang looks up at him with protesting eyes. They look almost glazed-over, unfocused. Intoxicated.

It’s…dangerous.

San leans in closer.

“What is it, Yeosang?” he voices, something between a soft murmur and mutter.

Yeosang’s eyebrows pinch together for a split-second. He seems to fumble with his thoughts for a moment before opening his mouth and whispering, “I don’t know.”

San regards him quietly. He realizes that it’s unlikely he’ll receive a proper answer from Yeosang unless  _ he _ does something, so he shifts the hand that was previously pressed against the other’s back to gently palm the curve of his waist.

Yeosang’s breath hitches in his throat. The words tumble past his lips like a plea.

“I want you.”

San forces his eyes closed for a moment. He continues to utilize his better self-control to question Yeosang, “You want...me? Are you sure?”

Yeosang nods. He looks embarrassed, like he’d rather not be verbal about it. 

“Like how?”

Yeosang bites his bottom lip so hard it seems painful. “Can we k—um, kiss?”

San inhales, long and hard. The song has long stopped, leaving the room almost dead silent save for the distant whirring of the a/c and the pounding of their own pulses in their ears.

“Did you lock the door?” he asks. His voice is leveled despite the fact that he’s barely hanging onto his self-restraint by a thread.

Yeosang gives him a single nod of his chin, and it’s all he needs.

“Good.”

Both of San’s hands move to grip at Yeosang’s hips. His fingertips press in  _ hard _ as he backs Yeosang up against the mirror. San has his mouth on his in no time. 

He kisses him wet and slow and sloppy with purpose, relishing in the way Yeosang gasps and shudders repeatedly under his touch. He slides his hands under Yeosang’s shirt and drags them across smooth, sweat-damp skin riddled with goosebumps.

Yeosang pants against his mouth. He tastes like the citrus mints that Hongjoong likes to carry around with him in his bag. San delves his tongue in deep, forces Yeosang’s mouth open so wide that spit drips down his chin from the corner of his lips.

“Ah, San... _ —ah!” _

Whatever Yeosang meant to say is cut off by his own high-pitched moan, back curving inwards as San brushes the pads of his thumbs across his nipples.

“So sensitive,  _ Sangie,” _ San pulls away to purr against Yeosang’s ear. Yeosang whimpers, face flushed hot and pretty.

“Kiss me, please.” His voice is hoarse with want. San doesn’t hesitate to reconnect their lips. Yeosang’s jaw falls slack, allowing San to coax his tongue into his mouth so he can wrap his lips around it.

Yeosang shivers, full-body, as San sucks on the sensitive organ. He groans and brings his arms up to wrap around San’s neck, urging him to press closer, closer, closer.

“Do you...can we…” San pulls off for a moment to ask him, their hips dangerously close to touching. Yeosang nods his head fervently, looking at San with hooded eyes, and San keeps his eyes fixed on his face as he presses his hips flush against Yeosang’s.

“Oh... _ fuck,” _ Yeosang’s eyes slip shut, his mouth falling open on a silent moan as San slowly ruts his hips against him. Their clothed hard-ons grind together  _ deliciously _ through their sweatpants, making San’s own mouth fall open on a groan.

“You’re so touch-starved,” he notes through gritted teeth. 

“ _ Hnh,”  _ is all Yeosang offers as a response. His eyes are squeezed shut, expression feverish. San leans forward and kisses him again.

Yeosang digs his fingers into San’s hair, whimpers into his mouth while desperately grinding his hips against him. It’s cute—and also  _ hot as hell. _

“Slow down, baby,” San murmurs. Yeosang stills his hips and pulls off of his mouth with a protesting whine, letting his head fall back and thump against the mirror.

San uses the chance to lean down and attach his lips onto his neck. He drags his right hand from Yeosang’s hip to his clothed hard-on and presses the heel of his palm against it, revelling in the sharp hitch of his breath. He slowly rubs his dick through the material; loves the feeling of it under his palm and the taste of salt on Yeosang’s skin.

“I’m,  _ ah _ , you’re going to m-make me come,” Yeosang groans out, breathless. “Can you touch me?”

“Sangie, baby,” San croons into Yeosang’s ear. “Turn around for me.”

Yeosang seems to hesitate for a moment, confused. Then he glances at San’s face—eyes hazy with lust—and does as he was told. 

His face reddens the moment he sees his reflection in the mirror.

“Mm, so pretty,” San hums from behind him. 

Yeosang averts his gaze. 

“Don’t be shy, angel.” San crowds him against the mirror and presses his front flush against his back. Yeosang resorts to closing his eyes again and shivers, kitten-like, when San pulls the waistband of his sweats down to his mid-thighs. 

San draws a strained moan out of him when he dips his hand into the front of his boxer briefs and skims his fingertips down the underside of his dick. The touch is purposefully feather-light and teasing, and Yeosang manages to endure it for less than a minute before he breaks.

“Please,” he begs, sounding wrecked.

“Please what?” San tugs the front of his briefs down, exposing his cock.

“Please let me fuck your hand,” Yeosang breathes. It’s embarrassing. His face flushes a deeper shade of pink. 

San holds back a smirk.

“You want to fuck my hand, Yeosang? Like this?” San wraps his fingers around his base, just shy of too tight, and slides his fist up, rolling his palm over the head to spread the mess of precome down his shaft.

“Oh my  _ god _ ,” Yeosang moans, the muscles in his thighs clenching from the pleasure. He’s trembling. “Please, please.”

San muffles a breathy laugh into Yeosang’s shoulder. He loosens his fist just the slightest, his other hand reaching down to pull his own dick out of his pants and press it against the sweet curve of Yeosang’s cotton-clad ass.

“Go ahead, baby.”

Yeosang snaps his hips up with a grunt. San lets him fuck up into his fist however he likes. The sounds of him being jacked off fill the room, slick and fast-paced.

It doesn’t take long for Yeosang to come in his hand in desperate spurts, white painting the mirror and San’s fingers. San circles the pad of his thumb over the flushed head of Yeosang’s dick just to see him flinch away, oversensitive.

“Good?” San leans forward and licks over the shell of his ear.

Yeosang shivers and nods. “So good. What about—you?”

San hums. He grips Yeosang’s hips with both hands and pulls them back, his cock gliding over the clothed crack of his ass.

“Getting there. Hold onto something.” San suggests. He barely gives Yeosang a chance to uselessly slap his palms against the mirror before he starts to move.

After a minute or so of grinding against him, San realizes that the friction is a little too dry, the sensation not enough to help him reach his orgasm. Yeosang seems to notice too, and San hears him spit into his palm before reaching behind him and taking San’s cock into his hand.

“I want you to come,” Yeosang breathes out, carefully starting to stroke him at a steady pace. 

San sucks in a small breath and obliges, slowly thrusting up into the pretty curl of Yeosang’s fingers. 

“Feels good,” he leans forward and rasps against Yeosang’s nape. Goosebumps rise on the skin and San bites him, just a gentle nip, as heat gradually starts to pool in his gut.

“Tighten your hold a bit for me,” he murmurs, and Yeosang immediately does. “Yeah, just like that.  _ Shit _ . Feels so good.”

Yeosang bites down on his lip to distract himself from how turned on he is. San thrusts upwards on every downstroke of his hand, and soon he’s slamming into the circle of his fist, pace fast and dirty.

Once he senses he’s close, he reaches up and forces Yeosang’s chin towards him to kiss him. He has his tongue curled around Yeosang’s when he comes, pleasure thrumming up his spine in numb waves.

Yeosang moans, soft and helpless, at the feeling of San’s come spurting onto his back and seeping through the material of his shirt.

“Fuck,” San breathes. He tucks himself back into his pants and steps back. 

“Yeah.” Yeosang agrees. He walks to the other side of the room with shaky legs and grabs a clean towel. Then he uses the last of the water in an abandoned water bottle to wet it before returning and wiping his dried come off of the mirror.

“Can I see that?”

Yeosang hands him the towel, folded over on its clean side. San uses it to clean the cum on the back of his shirt, leaving behind a few barely-noticeable stains.

When he’s done doing that, Yeosang turns around to face him. The look on his face is expected.

“Hey,” San reaches out and pulls him into a comforting hug. “Don’t worry, okay? We’re okay.”

“Really?” Yeosang mumbles into his shoulder. 

“Yes. I mean it.”

Yeosang sighs and pulls back, seeming slightly more at ease. 

“Okay.”

“Okay. Come on, let’s head back before dinner,” San says with a smile. He holds his hand out for Yeosang to take.

“...Wait,” Yeosang blurts out. 

San turns and faces him curiously. “Hmm?”

After mustering up the courage, Yeosang steps forward and cups San’s face in his hands, leaning in close enough for their noses to touch.

San tips his chin down. Their lips press together in a soft kiss. 

“Okay. ” The words ghost over San’s lips. “Now we can go.”

**Author's Note:**

> who would’ve ever thought that my first published ateez fic wld be this short and sansang,, (not me that’s for sure)
> 
> >> i just started using twitter and would really (really!) like to make some atiny mutuals <3 please don’t hesitate to follow first or send me a dm on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/lilsangie)
> 
> \+ i have a handful of longer & more plot-heavy fics planned. i would love to take requests/suggestions from anyone over on [cc](https://curiouscat.me/cafehwa) so check that out as well!
> 
> comments & kudos are well-appreciated~ see u soon.


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